


Doorway

by Edwardina



Category: Firefly
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, Multi, PWP, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-01
Updated: 2006-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash, Zoe, and Simon have an understanding -- but now it's becoming more than just an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doorway

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dooooooom Ficathon. My prompt was "choke, falter, stumble, mistake." Thanks to Nutkin for taking this from Total Incoherency to Only Occasional Incoherency!

It's a mistake. The doc's perfect white teeth are clicking against his own and _oh,_ yeah. Mistake.

It's like he's drunk. Drunk on some kind of thrill-seeking irrationality he thought he'd left far behind when he'd fallen in love with Zoe, and this is something he really shouldn't be doing, but oh, God. Mistake? What mistake?

Wash is pretty sure he's never kissed anyone like this, not even Zoe, because Zoe has a controlled way about her even in moments of passion. Simon's fingers are tentative and hungry at the same time, touching the hair just behind his ear gently, but this kiss is anything but gentle, which is kind of weird because Simon looks like he'd kiss prim, and not like this boy that's been starving, not like who currently has fingers clawed in Wash's belt loops and hair and whose chest is swelling up against Wash's with intense breaths. He meets Wash's tongue and trembles openly, and his soft exhale of a groan just unravels everything even further. All the muscles in Wash's body ache with want. The medtable is right behind them and for a moment Wash's mind is ten steps ahead of his body and is pushing Simon back upon on it -- unbuttoning his vest, taking deep greedy inhales of Simon's dark hair and fine white skin -- then in a rush, he's back in the moment, with Simon gasping softly, head hitting the wall behind him. He looks delirious as Wash mouths down his jaw.

"I," Simon gasps, "Wash - no... this wasn't supposed to happen... I'm not even -- I mean, I don't..."

Wash knows; they had a line. They had an understanding, Simon and Zoe and him, held together by a thread that Wash had thought about snapping from day one, if only in the most private and primitive corners of his mind. It was hard to see Simon in the shadows without reaching a hand out to him and pulling him in with him and Zoe as they made their own light; it was hard not to stare at him even as he made love to Zoe.

Wash's mouth leaves a wet heat in the dip of Simon's collarbone, right where his collar splits open around his neck.

"Simon," he says tightly, a hand moving over the silk of Simon's vest, "there's not much keeping me from taking you right here." At the hitch of Simon's chest, he adds, "Right here. In your infirmary. On the medtable. On the counter. On both."

"Zoe," Simon breathes, as if reminding him. Their eyes meet, and the glazed heat Wash sees in Simon's normally cool eyes makes his cock flush full.

"She can watch," says Wash, and Simon's eyes close; he bites his lip. He looks torn, and so wanting, and in his mind's eye, he must be envisioning Zoe standing in the shadows by the ladder of their bunk, where he often stood watching them writhe and thrust and murmur. His face is so beautiful, flushed and open, and Wash's hand slides up his throat, thumb coming to stroke along his lower lip. Simon's lips part for him. "She can watch me take your clothes off," he whispers, and Simon's panting now, "and she can watch me slide my cock inside you, and watch you moan for me."

At this, Simon's silent, but Wash can feel his reaction in every limb of his body. It's a situation the doc knows only too well, and he can feel the want reverberating in Simon's heartbeat against his chest.

"Just say you want it, baby," Wash murmurs, and feels Simon stiffen against him reflexively; he's used to hearing him call Zoe "baby." Wash strokes his cheek and Simon's eyes open, and the answer's in them.

No one's out and about, luckily; Mal, Zoe, and Jayne are miles away, tossing back beers at some tavern of ill repute, waiting for a contact to show, and Kaylee's busy in the engine room -- reading a romance novel, since Wash last checked -- but even so, it feels a little like they're on their own dubious mission, as they steal down to Wash and Zoe's bunk, looking over their shoulders. It's something they've done before, making sure no one sees Simon come and go, but now it's different. Now Simon's not going to just hang in the doorway.

Once down the ladder, the light of the hallway falling on them like a weak halo in the darkness of the bunk, Wash can't help but kiss Simon again, and now Simon moans outright. How long has he wanted this? Maybe since that first time, when he'd stumbled upon them in the shower. 

Wash backs Simon against the wall again, reveling in the feel of being the taller one, and in the way Simon's deliberate, gentle hands slip up his chest and around his neck to crush into his hair. Now the thread's really unravelling fast --

" _Ai ya_ ," he blurts, breaking out of the kiss, because Simon's hips lift into his and the grind of their cocks together sends a jolt of electricity up his spine. His fingers grasp over the silky sides of Simon's vest, then meet at its bottommost button and fumble until it's open. 

After a moment of licking his lips headily, Simon joins him, and together they breathe and unbutton his vest until it's open, and Simon's pushing it off, down his arms, to crumple on the floor in a slip of silk the color of red wine. Wash pulls at the tucked-in tails of Simon's shirt even as Simon's fingers are tackling its tiny buttons, and Simon's hissing, " _Ta ma de_ ," in annoyance.

Wash jerks him further into the room by his shirt, and Simon stumbles along, until Wash is folding back onto the bed blindly and tugging Simon onto his lap. Judging by the slightly confused expression on Simon's face, he's never been on someone's lap like this, and Wash chuckles at him lowly.

"Let's get you out of this and into something more comfortable," he suggests, and pulls Simon's shirt up hintingly, now that most of its buttons are loose.

"All right, but I'm not wearing that slinky purple thing," Simon grins tentatively, referring to a piece of lingerie stashed in Zoe's bottom drawer, as he cooperatively tugs his arms from his sleeves.

"Maybe not _today,_ " says Wash, and he wants to laugh, particularly at the goofy curve of Simon's grin as the shirt slides up crookedly over his face, but he can't. Instead, he stops, the shirt halfway off and the collar around Simon's eyes like a white blindfold, and looks down Simon's lean, hairless chest, watching his nipples peak slowly. The only light in the room is from the open door and a safety light by the base of the wall by the desk, but even so, Wash can see the pink flush in Simon's pale skin and the tent of his prick poking the zipper of his trousers up against his navel.

Simon's grin fades in the space of a breath as Wash leans in and mouths at his jaw, then ducks to do the same to one of those tiny, stiff nipples, tasting the fastidiousness of clean skin and clothes and leaving Simon panting again. His belly aches with the sweetness of Simon's responses; they're not like anything he's experienced in a long time. It comes naturally, to wrap an arm around Simon's middle and turn them both over on the bed, until Simon's on his back, his shirt still blindfolding him, and Wash is unbuckling his crisp, smooth leather belt.

He watches Simon bite at his lower lip again, and is pleased when Simon's hands seek him out blindly, running over his arms until they find their way up to his face. He turns his lips into the soft lines of Simon's palm and presses a kiss there, fingers deftly unfastening Simon's trousers.

Wash has seen a lot of beautiful things on his bed -- flashes of Zoe's golden brown skin come to mind, of her curls wild against the pillows, the slim power of her fingers digging into the mattress -- but Simon is something new, so lily-white that the darkness of the hair under his navel and around his cock is gorgeous in its starkness, the shape of his body so different than Zoe's, or even Wash's own. His limbs are tense and his knees awkward in an ungainly spread, and his prick is somehow as silky and refined as he is, the rosy-purpleness of it violent against the pale of the rest of him. Simon's hands clench at his own hipbones for a moment, and his head turns, as if to seek out Wash even though he can't see.

Wash is on him an instant later. "Pretty" flees his mind; Simon's about to get the pretty screwed right out of him. Every last inch of proper's going to get nailed to the rutting bed.

After a tug, the shirt's up and off and thrown to the floor, and Simon's eyes are wild and unfocused for a moment before they find Wash on his knees over Simon, stripping his pagoda-print shirt off quickly and purposefully. His mouth slips open around a quick inhale. Oh, yeah. "Pretty" isn't even a word right now -- "fuckable," however, is very apt.

"You ever been fucked before, Simon?"

Simon blinks up at him, and oh, he's squirming a little. "Not exactly..."

"Not by a man? That what you mean?" Wash pulls the zipper of his jumpsuit down, all the way down from where it's hanging casually at his sternum to where the zip stops on his right thigh, and shrugs the orange suit off his shoulders and down his back.

Instead of answering, Simon pushes himself up, and it's almost like a mirror of how it was a minute ago, but instead of leaving Wash's shirt teasingly around his face, Simon pulls insistently until it's all the way off and dropped to the side. He's seen Wash's bare chest before, several times, but this is different, and there's no trace of Doctor Tam in his touch as he traces Wash's abdominal muscles and leans in to rub his cheek on the sandy patch of hair in the middle of Wash's chest. Wash's cock is so hard now; Zoe's never rubbed her face against him like that, like she's completely lost in the feel of him.

"I want you to get on your back," he tells Simon with a shudder in his voice, and catches his cheek in a quick caress, "so I can see your face while I'm in you."

Oh, yeah -- because he can see Simon's every thought play out over his face.

It takes a minute for Wash to find his trusty tube of slick in the bedside drawer mess, but by the time he does, Simon's obediently scooted himself fully onto the bed, his head down at the foot of it. He's got a hand wrapped around his cock and is giving it a few anxious tugs, staring at Wash with darkened eyes. Wash doesn't even bother kicking off his jumpsuit or boots; he slicks his fingers up, and flushes over hot as Simon tugs his knees open to make room for him. He's seen Zoe do the same thing countless times. Apparently Simon was really paying attention.

"Yeah, that's it," he chuckles, and dips to lick at Simon's nipple again, getting a surprised grunt in response. "If you were Zoe," he murmurs against Simon's skin, "I'd just slide in you right now..."

He can feel Simon's thighs strain as he pulls himself open wider for Wash. Slowly, gently, Wash brushes the backs of his knuckles along the spine of Simon's cock, making it jump and Simon utter, "Oh, God."

"You've seen me do it," Wash continues, his fingers sliding into the crack of Simon's ass and probing at the crinkle of his hole; he watches as Simon brings a hand to his forehead as if to shield himself from a bright light, clutching at it as his body tenses. "I've fucked her right here, just like this..."

"Yes," Simon moans, for all the world looking mortified, but sounding intensely turned on from the choke of his voice. "I've watched you fuck her."

The word "fuck" coming from Simon's mouth seems twice as obscene as it should; Wash groans softly in the back of his throat, pushing two fingers slowly into Simon at once. He's so tight that it's probably uncomfortable for him, and it takes a minute for him to sink in to the hilt of his knuckles, but it's so intense that it seems that soon, Wash's fingers are gliding in and out with much more ease, stretching Simon around them and making soft, slippery wet noises.

After a minute, Simon's hand falls from his forehead, and Wash can see how naked and hot his eyes are.

"I can take more," he says, with certainty.

"Oh, can you?" asks Wash teasingly, even though he carefully adds his index finger to his ring and middle fingers.

"Much more," Simon replies, and Wash's eyebrows shoot up as he runs a hand over his chest and tweaks his own nipple. "I learned a lot in MedAcad."

Wash is floored for a moment. "Let me see that again."

"This?" Simon brings both hands to his nipples, this time, and gives each a pinch that has Wash's cock throbbing with need.

" _Ai ya_ , yeah, that," he manages, throat dry, and can't help but let his fingers slip from Simon's ass so he can bring them to his cock and give it a pull or two as he watches the oddly provocative sight. "Did you learn _that_ in MedAcad, too?"

"No," says Simon, the glint of his grin re-emerging. This time, it's just sexy as hell. "I learned that from watching Zoe --"

At this, the urge to fuck Simon overloads and scrambles Wash's brain, and he's moving to insert himself before he's sure Simon's ready for him -- but it seems Simon is, because he's sinking in, and Simon's arching up against him, fingers still tight on his nipples. He's only half inside Simon when he collapses to his elbows and flicks his tongue over Simon's fingers and nipple, feeling off-the-charts drunk. Simon hisses out as he stabs his prick in, with one hard, penetrating motion, and Wash grinds himself against Simon's body till it's hard to tell where he ends and Simon begins, and Simon's knees hook over his arms.

And that's when he sees Zoe.

It's almost like deja vu, because he's seen Simon there numerous times, one hand on the ladder of their bunk, the light hitting the chestnut tones of his hair and illuminating half his face, but keeping the other half in shadow, just as half of Zoe's blank face is hidden now. She's still got one foot up on the last rung of the ladder, but is leaning back against the wall like she's been there for a while and has no intent to move. It's hard to tell with Zoe sometimes, but Wash is pretty experienced with reading her body language, and it's obvious from the way she's breathing and the way her hand's tight on her own thigh that she's aroused.

"Hi, honey," he says after a beat. "You're just in time."

Simon groans in horror as he tilts his head back and sees her there.

"Zoe..." he starts, but Wash interrupts him with a forceful buck of his hips, one that echoes like a slap in the room, and Simon bites his lip to try and muffle his groan.

After a moment, Zoe says bluntly, "Go on. Let's see you give it to him."

It's like a dam breaks in Wash's chest, and the tightness of Simon's body clinging to his cock as he pulls out then slams back in is incredible, and he spits, " _Lao tian ye_!" and loses himself in the feel of Simon underneath him, the choking sounds of Simon's groans, the rich soapy silk smell of his hair and skin and cock, all over Wash and Zoe's bed. He can feel Zoe watching him move, but he's focused on Simon's face. Now instead of the quiet intensity of his stare from across the room, Simon's face is an inch from his and broken apart with need, flushed over and unguarded, and Wash's every thrust registers on it, even though Simon's staring at Zoe.

Wash is damn sure he's never fucked anyone like this.

It can't last, that kind of impossible frenzy, and it doesn't, not long at all. Wash is coming hard in what seems like seconds, and by force of habit rather than necessity, he pulls out and splatters the inside of Simon's thigh with a few shining spurts of come. Simon's leg is still hooked over his arm, so, perversely, he pushes it up, so Zoe can see every sticky inch of it.

Zoe chuckles softly. "Nice."

Oh, yeah. Wash thinks so too. His chest heaves from exertion and pleasure; Simon's does too, but he hasn't come yet.

With his wife and Simon both watching him, Wash lets Simon's legs down and bends, still feeling shaky from the consuming orgasm, to bite lightly at Simon's belly, all the way down his rib cage to his navel. He can hear Simon's breaths rasping, and then, loud and clear, " _Fuck_!" as Wash takes his cock in his mouth, deep and slow.

Wash hasn't given a blow job since he was a teenager, but it's not difficult, because it's been on his mind since Simon started watching them, and the taste of him is clean and heady and mouth-watering. He can feel Simon's thighs going tense, and a hand in his hair, clenching gently.

"Pull it," he hears Zoe suggest, and an obedient jerk follows, pulling Wash's head up the shaft of Simon's cock a little. "Feels good, don't it, doctor?"

Simon's fingers tighten almost painfully for a moment, and then Simon's coming with a snap of hips, and Wash pulls off and watches, running his tongue over his teeth and gulping thickly. Simon's a gooey mess and it's unbelievable to see him sprawled there over their bed, shining and drippy with seed and moaning freely. Wash can hardly believe he's the same Simon who constantly sticks his own foot in his mouth around Kaylee and who stood silently in the shower doorway weeks ago, watching Wash and Zoe as if frozen, unable to move or quite believe his eyes.

Wash lifts his eyes triumphantly to Zoe, who transfers her gaze from Simon to Wash and allows a tiny smirk to touch her lips. He can tell that only the thinnest of threads is holding her back.

Smiling at his wife, Wash holds his hand out, and a moment later, Simon stretches his out, too, as if he's asking her for this dance. Wash's head is suddenly filled the striking image of Simon's long, lean pale back against Zoe's rich dark skin, and if it's his turn to watch, that's totally all right by him.

Her chest rising with a deep breath, Zoe steps away from the ladder and into the room.


End file.
